


Shake Down

by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)



Series: Don Armie & his Sweet Tea [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyholic/pseuds/justacookieofacumberbatch
Summary: Timmy refuses to go to a family wedding, but Armie has his ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zwischenimmerundnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zwischenimmerundnie/gifts).



> Inspired by [this post](http://raquelsantos92.tumblr.com/post/175471639793/ciavttini-timothee-soft-boy) on Tumblr.

“I’m not going.” Timmy stood at the bathroom door, arms crossed over his chest, still in his towel despite the freshly laundered and pressed suit hanging just a few feet away.

Armie stopped grooming for a moment to shoot a stern look to Timmy in the mirror. “We’ve already had this conversation.”

“Not to my satisfaction.”

Armie turned away from the mirror to grab Timmy’s chin, just enough pressure to make their eyes meet. “If you were sincere about not going, you wouldn’t have taken a shower already, so let’s skip it.”

“Catholic, Armie. Catholic.”

Armie crossed to the bed to put on his shoes. “Yes, Catholics do tend to get married in Catholic ceremonies.”

“Why do you even want to go? You know what they think of us.”

“The Pope says we’re okay, now.”

Timmy scoffed. “When will the rest of them catch up?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m the little devil who’s”--quote--”sending you to hell.”

This time was Armie’s turn to scoff. “Please. No one thinks that.”

“They wouldn’t say anything to you. Would they.”

Armie brought his foot in its untied shoe to the floor with a thump. His nostrils flared. “Who said what to you?”

Timmy rolled his eyes. “Why? So you can straighten them out?”

“Exactly.” Armie stalked over, curling his fingers over Timmy’s damp hips. “I’ll fuck them up.”

Timmy licked his lips, pulling the bottom one between his teeth. “No you won’t.”

Armie slipped a finger between Timmy’s towel and his skin. Whether he was getting distracted by all that glistening bare skin, or the desire to protect Timmy lit up something inside him, he wanted Timmy naked. He wanted to see every delicious bit of skin that had ever been marked as Armie’s own--fresh, faded, or gone. Every inch of skin that said, _If you hurt him, you’ll deal with me._

He tugged the towel and let it drop, crowding Timmy against the doorframe, fabric brushing bare skin. “Since when do you have so little faith in me?”

Timmy’s gaze dropped to Armie’s mouth. “You trying to seduce me into going?”

“Maybe.” Armie ducked down a little to get a firm grasp on Timmy’s ass, one hand enveloping each cheek. “Maybe I just want to mess you up a little before we go.”

“Before you go.”

Armie smacked one cheek, his voice firm. “You’re going.”

“No.”

He smacked the other cheek. “Yes.”

Timmy thrust his chest against Armie’s, his chin jutting out. “Make me.”

Armie skimmed his fingers over the crests of Timmy’s buttocks, the arcs of his hipbones, the vee of his lower abdominals. Considering. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying to do.”

Timmy drew in a shaky breath, though he kept his expression tough. “What am I trying to do?”

Armie drew one fingertip down the length of Timmy’s cock, half hard and growing. “If we fuck, we’ll be late.”

“You think I’m so wily.”

Armie tapped Timmy’s Cupid’s bow. “My Artful Dodger.”

Timmy shook his head. “A fuck won’t get me to the wedding, not that I’m opposed.”

“Good. Because I’m not offering one.”

Timmy pinched Armie’s side, under his suit jacket. “Have fun.”

Armie grabbed the wrist of Timmy’s pinching hand, but Timmy wriggled free, poking Armie in the side. He fleed towards the bed, spinning on Armie just before he got there. He looked ready to pounce, his fingers beckoning to Armie, his stance all but screaming, _Come and get me_.

Oh no. Armie would be having none of that. He brushed his thumb over his lower lip. “Grow up.”

“Oh, fuck off. Not wanting to be berated by your family for taking _your_ dick up _my_ ass doesn’t make me immature.”

“But making a commitment and then reneging at the last minute does.”

“Commitment? You never even asked. You just assumed I’d go.”

“I told you it was coming when the save the date came. Months ago. You had ample opportunity to say no.”

“So you could go with someone else.”

Armie wanted to tear his hair out. “Are we jealous now?”

“You would have taken a woman. Your family would have been so relieved.”

“Then let’s stick it to them. Wear assless chaps if you want. I don’t give a shit, but do you have any idea how it will look if I go alone?”

Timmy raised an eyebrow. “Worse than assless chaps?”

“At least I’d have something nice to look at.”

Timmy slinked towards Armie. To the untrained eye, it would have looked like acquiescence. It would have looked like Timmy had given in to flattery. But Armie knew better. There was a trick coming.

Timmy stopped inches away, his bottom lip bitten in between his teeth. He paused there for a moment.

And then he yanked Armie by the belt. “Catch me.”

And he was off.

Armie considered for a moment not following. It was immature. Juvenile. It was one of those uncomfortable reminders of the difference in their age, even though he usually preened at the thought that someone so young and charming and desirable would choose to waste his time with Armie.

But he was also not one to be outdone, so he sprinted after Timmy. He chased him to the end of the hall, nearly catching up as Timmy reached the end, but as Armie moved to tackle, Timmy leapt back, vaulted off the wall with a whoop, and ran back to the bedroom.

“You little…” Armie charged, and this time--and he had a feeling Timmy planned it that way--he caught up a few feet short of the bed, and when he tackled, Timmy landed on his front, his body three-quarters of the way on the bed, Armie’s face pressed between his shoulder blades.

Timmy planted his hands on either side of his chest, ready to push up, but Armie stopped him. He pressed the webbing between his thumb and forefinger to the nape of Timmy’s neck and pushed down. He wasn’t about to let Timmy get away with anything after that stunt.

“No you don’t.”

Timmy let his body drop, but he pressed his ass against Armie’s stomach.

“All the way down.”

Timmy’s hips dropped to the mattress so quickly that Armie could feel the puff of air pushed out from underneath them. He had to admit that the argument and the chase had poked at the bear of dominance within him. The bear he would have preferred to keep hibernating until the end of the wedding. He didn’t need the distraction when it took so much of his focus just to be pleasant at these large family gatherings. 

Timmy had been a dream come true and an absolute nightmare in that regard, making these events more bearable while also making it more difficult to behave like a civilized human being. He just got too much joy out of seeing Armie’s mask break. Not that Armie had done anything but encourage the behavior. What a perfect, monstrous pair they made.

But, the puff of air brought it roaring to life. He snatched both of Timmy’s hands in one of his and stretched them high above Timmy’s head.

Timmy turned his head to rest his cheek on the bed, his mouth opening on a sigh, his nose pressed to his upper arm.

“Fuck.” Armie slid down Timmy’s body enough to grind his clothed groin against Timmy’s ass. “You can play me like a fiddle, can’t you?”

Timmy smirked. “Are you complaining?”

Armie pulled Timmy’s knee out to the side. And then the other. “Not exactly.”

Timmy’s breath hitched. Gorgeous.

Armie lowered his mouth to Timmy’s ear. “What do you want?”

He could practically feel the hairs rise at the back of Timmy’s neck. Timmy groaned.

“Use your words, baby.”

Timmy huffed. “Don’t infantilize me.”

“Don’t make me chase you down the hall because you don’t want to go to a fucking wedding.” He reached between Timmy’s legs, pulling down his cock until it lay flat on the bed, relishing the full-body shiver underneath him.

There. The perfect picture.

“Now.” Armie ran a single fingertip down the underside of Timmy’s cock. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me.”

“Will that get you to the wedding?”

Timmy nodded furiously. “Yes.”

“Will you behave?”

He squirmed. “Yes.”

Armie pressed all his weight down onto Timmy’s body. “Don’t move.”

And then he pushed off the bed, vaulting himself to standing so he could get the lube from the bedside table. Timmy stayed just as he was ordered, arms flat on the bed, stretched straight over his head, hands clasped one over the other. His forehead pressed to the bed. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His legs were bull-frogged out, his ass clenched to keep his hips down, to keep his cock from springing back towards his stomach.

Armie had to admit he enjoyed the full view like that, cock and balls and ass all on prominent display, but he also had to admit that wasn’t why he did it. To himself, anyway. He wasn’t about to give away the whole gamut to Timmy. He had Timmy’s cock like that because, while he knew Timmy enjoyed the tension and discomfort of it, it would also make it more difficult for him to come while Armie fucked him. Because there was no way in hell Timmy was going to get to come after pulling all that shit.

Armie dropped the bottle of lube between Timmy’s legs and went to undo his belt and zip, pushing his pants and underwear aside just enough to guarantee that he wouldn’t make a mess of them. Slicking his palm, he stroked himself to full hardness and guided himself to Timmy’s hole.

Timmy gasped, shifting momentarily away before settling back again.

Armie stroked Timmy’s shoulder as he pushed in. “Good boy.”

It wasn’t often that Armie asked Timmy to take all of him right off the bat. They were usually more into the long tease, the slow stretch and meticulous prostate massage until Timmy was far past the point of begging for it, and even when he did want Timmy to feel the full impact at once (and it was quite the testament to the alignment of their kinks that Timmy enjoyed it as much as he did), there was usually significantly more foreplay.

But that wasn’t the goal today. The goal was to give Timmy what he said he wanted without turning it into a reward. The goal was to be brutal, efficient. Get Timmy good and worked up, get his ass sore enough to notice when he sat down, and then leave him wanting.

So, Armie fucked him in earnest from the first moment, his hands wrapped over Timmy’s thighs, jerking him against Armie’s body.

Timmy’s head popped up as he gripped the bedclothes in both fists. “Oh”--he hissed--”fuck.”

“Is this what you wanted?” Armie growled, sweat already beading at the nape of his neck.

Timmy groaned, trying to angle his hips, though Armie held them still. “Harder.”

“Fine.” Armie shoved Timmy forward, enough for Armie to get his knees on the bed, and then he pounced, both hands on Timmy’s shoulders, his knees in between Timmy’s keeping them apart. His body was a fulcrum for his hips, slapping down on Timmy’s ass with every thrust. So tight. So hot. And Timmy’s moans did nothing but spur him on. This was going to take no time at all.

Good.

Already he could feel the pressure in his balls, the orgasm bearing down on him like a freight train, and he didn’t fight it. He let his base instincts take over, his lungs burning with exertion, a bead of sweat dripping down to pool at the small of his back.

“Take it,” Armie huffed. “Take it.”

Timmy groaned, loud and long, his hands pressed to the wall, arms shaking with exertion.

“Ready for it?”

“Fuck,” Timmy grunted. “Come on my back.”

“Inside.” Armie’s toes curled. His rhythm faltered. His vision turned white at the edges. “I want you fucking leaking.”

The last of his words stretched into groans and growls as he came deep inside, his groin pressed tight to Timmy’s buttocks. He trembled through it, his tired arms ready to collapse until Timmy shifted underneath him, his hand sliding down the bed towards his groin.

Armie snatched it. “Don’t you dare.”

Timmy shivered, no doubt expecting Armie to take care of it for him. Instead, Armie pulled out and stepped back, watching his own come dribbling from Timmy’s hole as he rearranged himself into his suit.

“Go get dressed,” Armie said with a light smack to Timmy’s ass.

Timmy’s head popped up, one leg straightening out as if it, too, couldn’t take the shock. “What?”

“You heard me.” Armie strode for the bathroom. He needed to freshen up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Timmy shouted from the bedroom.

Armie chuckled. Just the reaction he expected. “You got what you wanted. Get dressed before you make us late.”

Timmy appeared in the bathroom door, erection still red and angry, a thin pearlescent line drawn down his inside thigh. “You think that’s what I wanted.”

“You wanted a fuck. I gave you a fuck.”

Timmy scoffed. “You knew I’d wanna come.”

Armie crossed to the door, cupping his palm over Timmy’s throat and using his thumb and forefinger to push on Timmy’s jaw, guiding his gaze to Armie’s eyes. “Behave, and you will.”

Timmy knocked Armie’s hand away and stormed back into the bedroom, ripping open the plastic of the drycleaning bag as he muttered to himself. Armie was pretty sure he heard his own words being mocked.

A bit of worry crept into Armie’s conscious. Had he pushed it too far? “Give me a color.”

Timmy paused. He looked to the sky and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Chartreuse.”

Armie snuck up behind and wrapped his arms around Timmy’s waist, tucking his chin against Timmy’s shoulder. “What would make it green?”

Timmy didn’t relax into the grip, but he didn’t pull away either. He turned his face enough for his lips to brush Armie’s forehead as he spoke. “Make me come.”

Armie shook his head. “Not that, and not staying home.”

Timmy chewed his top lip for a moment before he finally spoke up. “I want a plug. The one with the remote control.”


	2. Chapter 2

The remote control felt heavy in Armie’s pocket, a reassuring yet exhilarating weight against his hip as they sat in the pew, listening to the service. They sat near the front, right behind the parents of the bride, a place of prominence, where everyone could see them, and Armie was not shy about resting his arm over the back of the pew, fingers coming up to twirl around the curls at Timmy’s nape, slide along the top of his shirt collar, scratch along the bit of his spine above the wood of the seat. Anyone who had a problem with that could suck it, and the relaxed smile on Timmy’s face told Armie that he shared the sentiment.

The first time he reached into his pocket, just to reassure himself that the remote was still there, Timmy tensed next to him. Armie raised a brow, curling his fingers over Timmy’s shoulder. Timmy did his best to keep his eyes on the ceremony, but his gaze flitted several times to Armie’s pocket. He bit his lips into a thin line. He surreptitiously wiped his palms on his trousers before balling his hands into fists at his side.

Armie almost gave into temptation right then and there, but the room was too quiet. Timmy was too still. Better to wait until the reception, where there would be loud music and dancing.

Though, that didn’t stop his hand from lingering in his pocket, his fingers from stroking the smooth plastic at the edges, feeling the shape of the buttons in the center. Timmy, probably unaware of it, drifted closer to Armie, his shoulder slotted against Armie’s underarm, and finally, when the anticipation must have been too much, Timmy’s hand clapped down on Armie’s knee. He squeezed. Hard.

Armie took his hand out of his pocket to reach across and cover Timmy’s hand with his own. He whispered into Timmy’s ear, “Pay attention.”

Timmy’s mouth wriggled like a worm, his breathing just a little too loud, a little too even. He was holding something back, either a laugh or a retort. Armie’s bet was on the first, and he was a talented gambler.

He leaned to Timmy’s ear again. “Behave. I don’t want to have to take you over my knee.”

Timmy’s breath huffed out on a quiet, “Jesus.”

“Good idea.” Armie nodded sagely. “Pray for strength.”

Timmy muffled his laugh on Armie’s shoulder. Armie smirked, settling more comfortably in his seat.

He managed to keep his hands out of his pockets for most of the service, until he saw a perfect opportunity. Communion. There would be music playing. Timmy would have to shuffle in his seat to let out the rest of the row anyway.

So by the time they were reciting the Lord’s Prayer, Armie was almost squirming in his seat, enough so that Timmy glanced over with his brows knit together. They lifted in question, and with the prayer still on his lips, Armie shook his head.

Finally, the priest lifted the chalice. “May the blood of Christ keep me safe for eternal life.”

The priest sipped, gave the eucharist to the kneeling couple, and then the ushers came to stand by the front row and gesture for the parents to go up as the organ started playing _Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring_.

Armie slipped his hand into his pocket, hopeful that Timmy was distracted enough by the relative commotion for it to escape his notice. Timmy shifted in his seat, but Armie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just preparing to let people out, and he wasn’t going to glance over to check. That would be giving it away.

So instead, he watched intently as the last member of the first row stepped towards the altar, and the usher stepped back to let out their row. The moment Armie stood, he flipped the switch. It was on the lowest setting--they had all night, no need to rush the intensity--so he couldn’t be sure Timmy would notice right off the bat. But, when he reached the end of their row and turned to face the front, he glanced over to Timmy’s spot.

He was staring at Armie, his gaze intense, his breath easing slowly in and out of his lungs.

Armie smirked.

By the time Armie returned to his seat and flipped off the vibration, Timmy’s whole body was tense, his legs crossed, and he refused to uncross them to let Armie pass.

Armie swore to God, if they weren’t in a church, he would have tucked his hand between Timmy’s thighs and checked the exact effect of the plug.

But he’d save it for the reception.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and many thanks once again to shamelessmash for the beta.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and many thanks to my beta, shamelessmash!


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